Roo Wrangler
by UlurNaga
Summary: In a country she doesn't know, Australian roughneck Alex Wrangle fights to survive. With nowhere else to go, she takes refuge with a rag-tag group of survivors. Who knew a redneck with a crossbow would be so entertaining to fight with? It's Redneck vs Roughneck in a zombie-eat-human world, place your bets. Daryl/OC rated for language, future sexual content.
1. Chapter 1

**To those of you following my Transformers story 'Primary Mechanisms' I assure you that I have not discontinued it, I have merely hit an incredible case of Writer's Block. It is being really relentless.**

BUT, I have recently watched the entire Walking Dead TV series, after reading the comic series; and it has become something of a muse. I have fallen in love with the characters and the stories, and I found a little bit of Artistic Muse in this.

It was relentless, and persisted me to write this.

**I sincerely hope you enjoy this first chapter, here's to hoping it helps pull me out of my slump.**

**UlurNaga**

_Gone were the people.  
The cars that once drove children to school and adults to work stood stationary and useless, gathering dust in a now dormant ghost town. Men who cherished wives, women who cared for families, children who had no cares…  
Gone._

_In their place were hordes of creatures that were once the living, people whom one called sister, brother, parent, friend, lover; all now with nothing but a mindless hive mentality to devour the flesh of those who still lived._

_This was the new World Order, and it was no longer a world of men…._

…_but of monsters._

It would be getting dark soon, and as a pair of murky green eyes looked to the sky, their owner could for a brief moment be fooled into thinking it was peaceful…a world where creatures once human did not eat the flesh of the living. That she was simply on the road of her backpacking trip around the States…

The last rays of sunlight were streaked across the sky in magnificent pinks and orange against a grey-blue fading canvas, darkening in the corners as the world succumbed to the dark. It was almost beautiful, were it not for the distant moans of the undead on her trail.

Alex scanned the area with almost desperate eyes, until she spotted a tree with a foothold that she could use. Shouldering her pack tighter, she took in a deep breath and gripped at the branch to haul herself up, finding footing clumsily and moving to the next branch.

It took a few minutes of climbing, and once or twice she lost her footing, but eventually she was high enough in the tree to be well out of harm's way.

_Never had trees like this back home_… she thought distantly as she untied a length of rope from her pack. Alex felt her chest grown heavy at the memory, would home even still be there? She did not even know the fates of her family, had no way to contact them or get to them. There was no way across the sea in a world like this; she couldn't just _book a flight_ back home to Australia now.

Who was to say home was even still there in the first place…?

All the young tourist could do was just hoped that this outbreak of bloodthirsty freaks was restricted to one continent, and not where her family was.

Pushing the thoughts to the back of her mind, Alex secured the length of rope around her waist before attaching it tightly to one of the branches above her, with enough slack for her to move, but short enough that should she fall while sleeping, she would not be dangling low enough for the Hungries below to reach her. With a heavy sigh she pulled the beanie from her head and allowed her straight red hair to fall to her collarbone, running her hands through it to separate the sweaty strands.

The girl felt disgusting, she'd not showered for almost a week and she was running low on toiletries and food. She would be lying if she said she didn't spend every day terrified being alone in this 'zombiefest' but she'd had nobody at the time of the breakout.  
Alex had flown over to America just over three months before the bizarre outbreak, on something of a working/studying holiday, backpacking around the US. Her brother had been with her, but had returned to Australia because he'd been unable to take any more time away from work. He'd gone back about two or three weeks before the world went to shit, and now she had no way to contact her family. She hoped against all hope that Australia hadn't been affected by all this mess.

Back home, Alex had worked on the mine sites at the top of Western Australia as a mechanical engineer. She was good with building and repairing, her job had been to design the equipment and make it run efficiently and in a lot of ways she very much missed it.  
What she probably missed most about her work though, was probably the end of the day when she would sit with the men and have a few cold beers as they talked about what they had accomplished.

Hell, she could do with a cold beer right about now.

With a sigh, Alex twisted her hair up into a pile and tugged the grey, woollen beanie back over it to hide the colour. Camouflage wasn't exactly effecting when your hair was fire-engine red, it wasn't particularly _subtle_.

Pulling a map out from her bag and the pocket torch from her belt, Alex skimmed over it diligently before pinpointing her destination. If her sense of direction was correct, she was very close to the city of Atlanta. If she could avoid the Hungries, it would be a good place for her to restock her supplies, maybe get some better weapons if possible.

She'd so far been defending herself with little more than a machete and an old rifle, both of which she acquired from a man who'd lost his life, the first real death she had seen since the start of this horrible nightmare. A farmer who had given her a lift at least part of the way to Atlanta, a seemingly good man in his late fifties to early sixties who had been one of the only people to pull over for the foreign hitchhiker.

She felt a slight pang of guilt at the memory of his death, it had been the beginning of her abrupt descent into the hell that this world now was. Tucking herself into the nestle of several branches, she clipped her backpacker's bag to the branches and dropped her head back against it in exhaustion; her memories sifting back to how she found herself spending her days running from the dead.

"_So y'said you were from Australia now, young missy?"_

_Alex looked over at the old man with a nod, "Yep. Western Australia, to be specific."  
The farmer, whose name was apparently Marshal, gave a curious smile and gestured to the gun rested on the console in the middle of the cabin between them, "You folk get guns over there?"_

"_Yeah, absolutely. It's not as backwater as everyone in the world seems to think." Alex laughed, "My parents had a really nice farm out in the sticks, Dad used to take me roo shooting when I was a kid."  
"Roo shootin'?"_

_Alex shrugged embarrassedly, "Kangaroos. Big marsupials with really strong back legs, they're kind of like giant rabbits that get around on two legs rather than four."_

_Marshal nodded and gave a throaty, chuckling laugh as he shook his head. "Sound like pests if y'ask me missy."  
"Oh they are, absolutely. In Australia's wilderness they're kind of like a rabbit problem. But they don't mean any harm, they just get in the way mostly."  
"So what're you doin' so far from home?"_

_Alex broke out into a grin at mention of it, reminding her that she was in a great country on an awesome adventure away from home. "This was sort of my belated graduation present. REALLY belated, my parents started the fund up when I finished high school, and they told me when I finished uni that they would pay for a trip to the States for me."  
"Uni?"  
"Oh…sorry. University." She corrected herself. One's slang was a hard habit to kick, particularly in a country where almost nobody understood it; Australian slang and humour was renowned for being confusing to outsiders. Poor old farmer probably didn't even know that McDonalds was 'Maccas over there, rather than the American Slang of Mickey D's._

_It was during the progression of this conversation, a limping, mangled figure covered in blood and gore had wandered out onto the deserted, woodland road and was staring at the vehicle._

_With a shout of warning and a violent scream from the girl, Marshal veered the pickup sharply and it ran off the road before crashing full force into a tree. The force of the blow sent Alex's head smacking into the dashboard, her chest held in crushing weight by the seatbelt across her ribs. Her vision spotted with black as the adrenalin slowed and she got her bearings, turning to see the old farmer having gone through the windshield, blood clinging around the hole in the glass where Marshal had flown through.  
Alex suddenly felt sick._

"_H-Hey!" she cried breathlessly, still feeling winded from the seatbelt that constricted her. Hastily and frantically she fumbled for the buckle, unclipping it and throwing it off so that she could get a hand onto the man's back and shake him.  
"Mister Marshal! Hey! Oh God….please don't…Hey! Wake up! You can't be dead…Oh no…no, no, no…" she felt like she was borderline hyperventilating, tears prickling the corners of her eyes. How could she, a total and complete stranger, be the only one this poor man saw in his final moments.  
How did she find his family, or friends and tell them? Did she try to get the police? Had the person they'd crashed to avoid stuck around? Or just run off like a coward?!_

"_Help!" she called out, hoping that the pedestrian could hear her pleas, "Marshal…? Please wake up! We'll get you help."_

_On the man's hip he wore a belt that carried a machete in a holster, and for a brief moment she wondered if he'd stabbed himself somehow in the accident…but the weapon was still sheathed. The shotgun had fallen forward to her side of the car at her feet, and with shaking hands she picked it up.  
What did she do? Did she leave to get help, or try and revive him? She had nobody to call to help her, her mobile phone was back home in Australia, the sim-card was not usable overseas so she'd had no use for it. Maybe she should try to fix the car, at least to get him to a hospital or-_

_Alex screamed at the sound of a vicious thump on the passenger side door. Was it the guy they'd avoided hitting?  
"H-Hey! We need help in here! Shit… Please, can you-?"  
A face appeared in the window, but it was grotesque… The eyes were sunken, but exposed…vacant looking. The flesh on his face was peeling, rotted…almost __green__ from decay. His teeth exposed, gnashing at her from behind the window as his hands clawed at the metal frame of the car. _

_Alex's heart sunk into her stomach, bile rising in her throat. "Oh my God…"_

_Suddenly, Marshal's legs kicked and her attention was drawn to him with an expression of terror. "M-Marshal! You're alive! There's a monster! We have to get out of here!"_

_She put a hand on his back, trying to assess how hurt he was, would she have to carry him to an escape? Her plans of rescue were cut short when a bloody hand lashed at the windscreen, Marshal's hand. Through the cracked, blood smeared glass she saw his clouded eyes, his teeth gnashing as breathless groans and growls erupted from his chest._

_Terror gripped her, and glancing at the hungry looking corpse-man at the door, she felt her chest hitch a breath. _

_She needed to escape. But how? The thing outside was not reasonable, it was mindless. Alex screamed again as Marshal kicked again, violently clawing at the windscreen with blood on his hands. With tears in her eyes, Alex fumbled to get the machete belt from him, feeling him thrash and groan and kick in his attempts to get to her._

What's happening?!_ She thought desperately, _What is all this?!

_More heaving thumping at the door, and she spotted more of the rotting corpse creatures in the background, and her heart sunk in terror. If she didn't get out of the truck now they would get her.  
But she needed to be able to get them away from her…_

_She looked at the machete with a twisted stomach before recalling the old rifle the farmer had in the car. Fumbling she struggled to secure the belt around her waist and picked up the gun with shaking hands.  
"Ammo…ammo…" She breathed tearfully, desperately, "There's got to be ammo!"_

_Frantically she grabbed at any crevice in the vehicle, sobbing and heaving at the smell of dead flesh that was seeping into the pickup's cabin._

"_Come on, come on, come ON!" She hissed desperately, reaching into the console and under her seat before popping open the glove box. Several small boxes of ammunition for the shotgun tumbled into her lap, and Alex almost cried with relief.  
The joy was short lived by the breathy snarls from around her, and desperately she fumbled with the rounds with shaky hands. The rifle was ancient, but it would help. Pulling her massive hiker bag onto her shoulders and clipping it securely, Alex seized the boxes and _

_She dropped on or two rounds on the floor in her haste, but she ignored them and she heaved in desperate breathes and raised the weapon to the window.  
With a rattled sob, she poised her muscles to run…and fired._

Alex woke with a start from the nightmare, her brow drenched in sweat and her fingers clenched tightly around the branches nearby.

"Shit." She breathed, pressing her head back against the tree.

It was becoming lighter, the sun peeking over the horizon and touching the trees, and this made the young woman sigh in relief. She was close enough to make it to Atlanta today, and hopefully this meant more supplies.

The least she was going to do was try to find a motel or apartment, then she could find a way in, fight off whatever Hungries were in her way and have a _shower_. At home when she had been working in the mines, she was more than used to having to go a few days on the job without showering and pissing in a tin can, but even the rough and tumble Aussie tomboy was not enjoying smelling like a farm.

There was only so much of one's own body odour that one could take.

Taking a can of aerosol body spray, she shook it in disappointment of how empty it was getting, but she'd discovered something interesting about the zombies. If she wore floral scented body spray, they were less immediate to notice her. She suspected that it probably had something to do with the fact that they clearly hunted _flesh_, and if she smelled like flowers and artificial floral scents, it was not the smell they were looking for.  
Sure, it didn't trick them for _long_, but once or twice it had given her the chance to avoid their attention long enough to climb a tree or barricade a door. It was enough to mask the smell of being human for a least a few seconds, and in this world those few seconds could be life or death.

Unclipping her pack from the branches and untying her safety rope, Alex reached into her bag for something to eat. What she found was not incredibly satisfying though; a few stale water crackers and one of her sample packs of Vegemite that she had packed in bulk from home. Not exactly filling, but the Vegemite was a good source of energy, so she supposed it would do until she could get some decent supplies.

Part of her wished that she could have been navigating her own homeland, she _knew_ the Australian territory, the land and the places that would be safe. Here she was blind, she knew nothing about the American terrain, or if Atlanta was even a plausible destination. Maybe she wouldn't even get in the city walls before being chewed to death.

_Come what may_, she thought, _I won't go down without a damn good fight._

Unstrapping the shotgun from her pack, she checked to make sure it was fully loaded before tucking it back into place. The ancient firearm had served her well so far, but the old weapon had a tendency to jam when she needed it the least. To compensate for this, she had strapped a large kitchen knife to the end of it using duct tape; both of which she had procured at the diner she'd staying in overnight a week or so back.  
It was hardly a full-proof weapon, but it gave her something to use for back-up should she get caught by the untimely occasional jamming of her gun by using it in a fashion similar to the muskets of the American Civil War.

After packing up everything she had, Alex pinpointed the location of Atlanta city in the distance, and then slowly and quietly made her way down the trunk of the large tree, surveying in all directions for flesh-eaters.

Once she touched down on the ground, she slipped the machete from its sheath and breathed in heavily. She took good solid not of the sun's direction in association to her destination, and began trekking forward.

God be willing, she would reach Atlanta before lunchtime.


	2. Chapter 2

**OH MUSE, WHY DO YOU FORCE MY HAND D:  
I have other stories I need to be writing, but this one won't get out of my head :|  
Oh well, here's another chapter for you all. Just couldn't stop writing, it had to be done.**

**Enjoy!**

"Dinner's ready." Lori called, beckoning the group to the fireplace.

Those who were not already located around the fireplace began to slowly shuffle towards it, everyone was hungry and everyone was exhausted.

"About time." Muttered Ed, a man of cruel words and sexist remarks, husband to Carol and father of Sophia. Lori chose to ignore his remarks, casting a glance at Carol who did little more than lower her head.

"Like to see you catch dinner, fatass." Snorted Daryl.

The young redneck was seated against one of the logs around the fire, his crossbow on one of his knees and his hand on the other. Ed shot him a look that could have curdled milk before spitting in the younger man's direction. However Daryl did little more than scoff at the piggish brute and shifted positions to get himself some meat.  
That deer he'd caught had cooked up _mighty_ nice.

Ed exiled himself and his family over to the second campfire away from the rest of the group as Shane Walsh made his way around the camp with his firearm in hand, surveying the area as he made his round. Casting a glance up at Dale on the top of the RV, the two exchanged gaze before the older man gave a nod; a silent signal that he had the camp covered from his vantage point.

As the former police officer sat down, he ruffled a hand through the hair of the young boy seated next to him. Carl gave a laugh at the action, reaching up to smooth his hair back down. The air was tense, but it was a small moment of peace in an otherwise dreary world. It was easy to see the rifts between these survivors, the different dynamics of the groups; families and those who were not associated with one another. But they stayed together because it meant survival.

They were better protected in numbers.

"I was planning on doing a run tomorrow." Glenn said suddenly, picking at the meat in his hand before licking on of his fingers, "We're running low on some things, I thought I could go stock up."

Shane looked around at the group before nodding, "Sounds good." He said through a mouthful of deer meat, "You take a gun, keep your eyes peeled for any-"  
"Walkers, yeah." Glenn finished quietly, nodding once before sheepishly shifting in his seat, "I know. I'll be careful."

"Good."

-0-0-0-

When Alex had arrived in Atlanta, her worst fears had come to fruition. It was no safe haven like the radios had promised, it was a living graveyard.

People from all walks of life wandered aimlessly about the city with blank, hungry stares, seeking only the flesh of the living. It made her sad to think that a zombie apocalypse seemed to be the only way that humanity united as one…and it was the _dead_ that were uniting.

Maybe if the world had stood as one beforehand, this might never have happened.

Having pushed the thought to the back of her mind, she'd crept along the outskirts of the city looking for an alleyway or a fire escape, and eventually she had found what she'd needed. Running faster than she had in her life, she'd crashed and fought her way to the ladder and climbed her way to the roof of the building.

From there, she'd travelled by rooftop across the city.

It was during this process that she found herself grateful for having grown up in an environment climbing on rocks and jumping creeks, because it helped her with crossing the sometimes large gaps between the buildings. She was _certainly_ no free-runner, she'd taken quite a few tumbles and twisted an ankle, but she was able to navigate her way to an apartment complex.

Carefully and cautiously, she had sunk onto the balcony, tapping on the door loudly to try and draw the attention of anything that might be in the apartment.

Two Hungries had responded to the call, a man and a woman, and she'd made good use of her machete in taking them out. Further inspection of every single room had found that there were no other zombies in the home, so after tossing the corpses over the balcony, Alex took some time to move a bookshelf from the lounge to the front door, effectively barricading it.  
However to be certain, she had also taken the heavy marble coffee table and used that as well. Then the scruffy, ragged little roughneck woman had made effective use of the shower. If she recalled rightly, looking at the clock; she had been in there for a good ten minutes before focusing back on her task.

Now that she was clean, Alex was ready to set about taking what she needed.

There was a time, not long ago, that she would have sooner died than looted someone's home; but this world was about survival, and if this was what she had to do, then it was the world she had to live in. She wasn't ready to die, not any time soon that was for _damn_ sure.

Heading to what was evidently the master bedroom, she rummaged through the drawers looking for anything she could find.

Clothing was her main concern for now, as hers reeked of body odour, gore and blood combined with the stale smell of the body spray that she'd been using. Emptying her large backpacker's bag of all her old clothing, she held up a few of the dead resident's garments up to her body to roughly check the sizing against hers. In relief, she found it to be similar to her own, if not maybe a little bit big for her.  
Beggars couldn't be choosers.

After stuffing a few shirts, some pants and socks and some underwear items, Alex took the time to redress in a pair of blue skinny jeans, a grey tank top and a pair of running sneakers. She thought the sneakers were a sensible choice seeing as she had been doing a _lot_ of running lately.

Inspecting further, she picked up some more body sprays, a hairbrush, a few slightly empty boxes of tampons and a half loaded Glock pistol with no extra ammo in the bedside table. From the bathroom she bagged all of the toothpaste, a bar of soap, a disposable safety razor and the half empty bottles of shampoo and conditioner.

With a sigh, Alex dragged the massive pack into the kitchen and placed it gently on the floor before raiding the cupboards for something, _anything_ to eat. All she found that wasn't expired were some tinned mini-sausages and a can of pre-sliced beetroot. She wasn't much of a fan of either, but when one was living on day-to-day, one had little choice. Opening the tins, she ate from the cans with a fork before tossing the empty remains in the trash; a needless action considering there was no need to keep the house clean.

But old habits died hard, if her father had caught her messing up someone's home like that, he'd clip her across the ears. Oh how she _missed_ him…she just hoped that they were all okay, and that this zombie-ridden hell wasn't back home too.

Having collected everything from the house that she could carry, Alex moved back to the balcony in preparation to climb back up onto the roof. But a figure from the corner of her eye stopped her; one that was moving differently than the rest.

A man, Asian from what she could tell, and probably roughly about the same age as herself, was running with a bag on his back, eyes darting to every corner as he made his way through the alley, with Hungries chasing him with a daunting, decrepit pace.

"Fuck…" she whispered to herself, pulling out the old farmer's rifle from her back and lifting it to prepare for fire.

The Asian man was on the same street as her apartment complex location, and if she could clear the way for him to reach the alley, he'd be able to use the fire escape to get to her location. She wasn't going to lie, the thought of talking to another live human being after this long actually sent a chill of excitement and relief up her spine.

Human contact was human nature, after all; they were not designed to be alone.

Licking her lip nervously, Alex aimed the rifle at the head of a zombie sneaking up on the guy, and fired. His head whipped around to watch the creature drop, his expression somewhere between shocked and horrified. Desperate to show him she was there, Alex waved an arm wildly, drawing his attention.

She pointed down to her left, where the alleyway was before holding up her rifle, patting it and gesturing to the alley once more.

_I'll cover you_, she was saying, and the man seemed to get the message because he nodded, motioned to the side-street and began to move in that direction. From her vantage point, Alex could see more of the horrid monsters coming toward the source of the sound her gunshot had made.

Alex leaned over the edge of the railing, seeing one or two Hungries in the alley by the fire escape. With a deep breath, she fired a few rounds at them, taking a couple of shots before actually hitting them given the poor aim of the rifle. Thankfully though, the Asian man was quick on his feet and was pulling up the ladder of the fire escape within less than a minute or two of the whole ordeal starting. With not quite skilled climbing capabilities, he managed to reach the balcony, which Alex pulled him over as he collapsed to the ground breathing heavily.

She gave him a few minutes to catch his breath before offering him a hand to get to his feet, a euphoric and hearty smile glimmering across her face, "You okay, mate?" she asked quickly.

"Y…yeah…" he replied breathlessly, "Thanks…"  
"Sure thing." Alex beamed happily, more than a little giddy at actually having someone to talk to who wasn't trying to rip the skin off her face. "Who are you, anyway? What the hell were you doing down there?"

He stuttered for a second, giving a sheepish smile and rubbing the back of his neck. "I…Well I was…" he stopped and gave a nervous snicker before holding out his hand, "I'm…Glenn Rhee, I'm a scavenger,"

She paused for a second before laughing and shaking her head, "Formal introductions in the apocalypse?" she asked humorously, taking his hand in hers with a grin and formally shaking his hand, "Nice to meet you, Glenn. I'm Alexandra Wrangle, and I'm a tourist."

"A- a _tourist_-?" he choked in disbelief.

"Couldn't tell by the accent?" Alex asked with a jovial tone, lifting her arms up in a shrug, "But yeah…I was backpacking through the States when this all went to shit."

Glenn shot her a somewhat sympathetic look, obviously she was alone, she didn't seem to have anyone else with her or watching her back. "Did you…lose anyone? Did you have anybody with you?"

She shrugged. "Nah, mate. My brother flew back before all this happened. I just hope home hasn't been affected like America has."

"You…English?" he guessed.

Alex laughed a little and shook her head, rubbing the back of her neck and feeling the strands of her damp red hair tickling her fingers, "No. Australian. Came here for a really, REALLY belated graduation gift from my oldies. God only knows if they're still okay, here's to hoping."

"So…you're by yourself." Glenn asked cautiously, feeling like he might just regret what he was about to offer…but she had helped save his life, he couldn't just turn away from this girl and leave her on her own. She didn't even know the geography of the _country_, let alone the area.

"Yup. Just me. You too? We could team up if you're solo too?" she queried, lifting her bag higher and clipping the strap so that it was secure.

Glenn looked over the balcony at the walkers wandering aimlessly and without purpose in the street, just waiting for an unsuspecting person to cross their territory. For someone like a naïve, unknowledgeable tourist like Alex who was alone and almost defenceless should a crowd of them surround her.

He knew that if he brought her back, everybody else in the group would probably question it, tell him it was just another mouth to feed. He was supposed to be getting supplies, not bringing back strays; that sounded like something Daryl or Merle would say…

But could he honestly leave her behind? In good conscience could he, Glenn Rhee, really leave an innocent, completely lost tourist, in a walker infested city that she had no idea how to escape…?

"Buddy? You 'right there?" Alex asked, breaking into his train of thoughts as his heart suddenly weighed down in guilt.

_No_.

He couldn't leave her behind. To hell with what the other's said, this was _his_ conscience, and only _he_ would have to live with the decision if he left her behind. He couldn't do it…he wouldn't want to be left behind, so what right did he have to do it to her?  
"I'm not solo, Alex." He said finally, exhaling with a heavy sigh. He looked like he'd just been caught in the decision making of his life, and Alex found herself a little curious about his train of thought.

The what he said hit her.

"You're…you're not by yourself? You mean other people are still alive?!" she exclaimed excitedly, "Are they in the city? Can they get us out?!"

Glenn reached over and put a hand on her shoulder, trying to settle her; she shouldn't make too much noise inside Atlanta, or they'd never get out of there alive. Either of them.

"Not exactly. Look, I'm in the _city_ by myself…but on the outskirts of Atlanta, there's a group of survivors. I'm scavenging for them, we need supplies."  
Alex leaned against the wall of the apartment and exhaled heavily. "Well _fuck me_…" she breathed, her language and choice of phrasing momentarily making Glenn look at her like she'd just announced that she had a second head. "So…how are you planning on getting out of here…? Would you take me with you?"

The Korean young man crossed his arms thoughtfully and leaned against the cement balcony opposite her, talking in a gentle contemplative voice. He reminded her a lot of the Chinese guy that had worked with her at the mines, Michael, one of the guys in office who organised the jobs and the paperwork. All the little jobs that nobody else on site paid much attention to, shy and loyal.

"Well…I don't want to leave you behind, I just can't do that. But the others…some of them there might feel…like you're another mouth to feed…"  
Yeah, he was definitely like Michael, and she liked him already. "I'm not useless, Glenn. Back home I used to hunt kangaroos on my parent's farm, I know how to kill those zombie things too. Do you have cars with your people?"

"Y…yeah?"

He noticed the way her eyes narrowed into a determined stare, "I was a mechanical engineer in the mine sites back home, did designs and builds for all kinds of equipment. I can help, really I can. I'd pull my weight, I promise… Just…please, _please_ don't leave me here…"

Glenn held his breath contemplatively for a moment, trying to decide what Shane would say about this, what Daryl or Merle would have to say; or Lori, even. She watched him with such calm, pleading eyes, it made his sympathetic heart bleed for her cause.

With a frustrated exhale, he caved and ran his hands through his hair, pulling at the strands from the stress.

"Okay…" he said finally, "Okay."

"Yeah? Seriously?!" she exclaimed, but Glenn's hand on her shoulder stopped her excitement.

"Yes. But I'm gonna need your help with something." He explained, his tone stressing that it could be dangerous, and she nodded slowly in response, "I still need supplies, that's what I came here for in the first place. Do you think you can help me collect them?"

To his surprise, Alex ran a hand through her hair and gave a scoffing laugh before she made eye contact again. "Mate, you take me somewhere with people, and I'll scavenge goods in a tutu."

Glenn shrugged with a slightly awkward smile, "I'll try and find one in your size."

The red head suddenly gave an ungraceful snort as she laughed at his remark, and admittedly Glenn felt incredibly happy that she thought his humour was actually funny. She surprised him by slapping a hand to his shoulder and giggling through her nose.

"Bud, I like you already."

**Be sure to review, it feeds the starving artist!  
That and positive feedback is astounding at clearing Writer's Block ;P**


	3. Chapter 3

**MOAR WALKING DEAD.**

Sorry, but this thing is giving me drive to use my muse again, hopefully it will clear up my Writer's Block faster :D  
Enjoy, my pretties and don't forget to review xx

"I can't believe how much stuff we got…" Glenn laughed as they drove, speeding past the figures of stray zombies, which Alex had learned they called 'walkers' rather than her nickname of Hungries. "I would never have been able to get all this on my own."  
She turned to him with a smile, arms folded and her legs crossed on the seat. Alex felt a surprising amount of accomplishment just from the simple task of gathering supplies.  
"Told you I could pull my weight, Wing Chung." She snickered, shoving him playfully.  
"Hey, I'm driving here." He said, trying to be serious, but there was a tell-tale quirk in the corner of his mouth. Glenn found it odd, but this newcomer was easy to relax around; easy to talk to and play friend with. Like he'd known her already.

Her 'Aussie charm' she'd called it, with a smirk.

"I still don't get why you insisted on the body spray though…" the Korean man said eventually, continuing their previous conversation about the loot they'd acquired.

He noticed a dimness in her expression, clearly it was not a pleasant memory, "I found out that the body spray seems to make them ignore you for at least a few seconds. I think that if you don't smell like _flesh_, they don't take any interest. It's tricking their first response, you don't smell like meat so they don't pursue. Doesn't last long though; they smell you after a few seconds, but even just that has saved my arse a few times."

"That's actually…really smart. I'd never have thought of that."

Alex shot him a grin, "Cheers. I'll take that as a compliment."

The two settled into a slightly awkward silence as the drive stretched on another few minutes, the car finally reaching the more woodland area of civilization's outskirts. Glenn's main thoughts were of how Alex had managed to survive on her own for this long, given that she had almost zero understanding of the land or the main roads in the US. She was in a completely foreign country, alone and without guidance…and still she'd managed to find a way to keep _living_ in this harsh new world.

"Alex," he started cautiously as he tightened his hands on the steering wheel, seeing her turn to face him from the corner of his vision, "I have to ask… How did you manage to survive out there on your own? You're not even local…"

She shrugged and gave a laugh that sounded a fraction more forced than the others he'd heard from her.

"Because I'm tough, mate. It's in my blood."

"Let me guess… Australian charm?" he tried, seeing as that had been her answer to a lot of things.

"Yep." Alex shifted in her seat, putting her feet flat on the floor again, "So, run me through this group I'm joining. Who are they?"

Glenn noticed her ease with which she changed the subject, the dimness in her eyes now replaced with genuine curiosity, watching him has he drove the vehicle.

"Well…there's Shane, he's kind of the leader I guess. Lori and her son Carl, they're his friend's wife and kid. I think he died when the outbreak hit or something, I don't know though; none of them really go into detail. There's Morales and his family, they've got two kids; then you've got Ed and Carol, their daughter Sophia. Ed's a real nasty piece of work…sexist asshole if you ask me."  
Alex snorted sardonically, "Sounds like the kind of guys who's teeth I'd like to kick into his arse." She sneered, punching a fist into her opposite hand, "Who else is there? Sounds like a really big group…"

"It is." Glenn replied with a nod, "There's Jacqui, Jim, Dale, T-Dog…Andrea and Amy, they're sister's, two brothers, Daryl and Merle…and me."  
"Jesus, man." She exclaimed, thoroughly impressed, "You guys sound like an army! No wonder you needed so much stuff!" she gestured to the back seat which was filled with food-stuffs, toiletries, blankets and general bits and pieces that they would undoubtedly need at some point. It had been Hell and beyond trying to get them, but with Glenn's know-how and Alex's can-do insistence, they had managed to secure a lot more than he would've been able to on his own. She had already proved that she would easily be a useful member to the group, and in Glenn's eyes she had already proven herself and earned a place.

It was just a matter of what the _rest_ of the group thought.

"Well…we're here." He said sheepishly, pulling the dusty car to a stop on the dirt road. On the tip of the hill, only a few metres from the car was a campsite bustling with activity, and Alex felt her heart swell at the thought of being around _people_. The silence of the world, with nothing but her footsteps and her own thoughts as company had made her so lonely.

She missed her family.

"Wow!" she exclaimed, brushing the thought to the back of her mind. Mourning was no good now, for all she knew they were safe and sound in a country not stricken by walking corpses, "This looks amazing."

Glenn hopped out of the car and opened the back door to gather an armful of the things they'd collected. Getting the hint, Alex hopped out of her seat and followed suit, collecting a large armful of the supplies, grinning to Glenn over the top of the car. Admittedly, she felt both giddy and nervous. She was trying to maintain positive, that she was safe now and with _people_…but it was still a unified decision, these people could still turn her away.

She just _really_ hoped they wouldn't.

"Where do you want this stuff?" she asked Glenn, feeling a little quieter now that worry was settling in. A few of the people in the camp were starting to notice her and that she was not someone they knew.

"Oh, here…" he said, putting his things down in front of the RV and taking hers to put it there as well, standing slowly and rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. Alex noticed the tall guy with short black hair and a nose that looked like it had been broken once or twice, he was walking over to them with the stride and purpose of a leader.  
This must have been…Shaun? Shane? Yeah…Shane. That was his name.

"Glenn." He said shortly, a deep gravelly southern accent reaching her ears. He looked over at her before biting at his lip in concern, running a hand over his scruffy hair before continuing, "You wanna tell me what's going on here? Who's she?"

Glenn shot her a look that was something between reassurance and worry. "Uh…she's a tourist, got stuck here when the walker breakout started. She saved my ass in Atlanta…" he turned to face Shane and his voice dropped a little lower, "…she's alone, Shane."

"My name's Alex." She said, quickly trying to duck in and save Glenn's ass from what looked like it was about to be an argument. Pointing to the Korean man with her thumb, she smiled, "Glenn got me out of Atlanta. In exchange for it, I helped him scavenge some supplies he said his group needed."

"Why?" Shane looked at her with just a little suspicion in his eyes…or was it wariness? She understood why, but it wasn't necessary.

"Well…" she paused, but decided that being honest with these people was going to be her best bet, "I'm not going to beat around the bush, mate. I was hoping I could join the group."

He appeared uneasy, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck with gritted teeth and a scrunched face. "Puttin' us on the spot here...We haven't got the resources to be taking in stragglers, there's a lot of us already."  
"Well yeah, but there's safety in numbers right?" Alex questioned, folding her arms uncomfortably to try and shield herself from the feel of the camp staring at the newcomer, "I can't go back out there. I've been alone for longer than I'd care to admit."

"Then why can't you do it again?" the man responded, mirroring her tone as he tried to stand a little taller. She could see that this guy wasn't a bad _person_…he was trying to watch out for the welfare of his people. They didn't know the first thing about her, and she understood that. Shane was just trying to protect his people…but Alex couldn't hide in trees anymore.

"Because I don't want to die." She said bluntly, "I'm not local, in case you couldn't tell. I was a tourist here when this all went to shit. I have no way to get home, and I know squat about local geography."

"Shane," came a voice from above the debating pair, causing them both to look up. She saw a man in about his fifties or sixties standing atop the RV with a shotgun, a horrible Hawaiian print shirt and a fishing hat. He had a concerned look on his face, "you're going to turn someone away when they need help? Come on, we're better than that."

She noticed that the dark haired man shot the old guy a look that was a little irritated. There was obviously a leadership contention between these two, even if only in a very mild form.

"You're really gonna just cut her loose? She's just a kid."

Shane gave a heavy sigh, talking up to the older man as though Alex were not even there; which to be honest she found that to be the height of rudeness…but then again the zombie apocalypse was not exactly a place where manners really mattered anymore…

"Dale, we don't know the first thing _about_ her…"

"She helped me in Atlanta, Shane." Glenn cut in, "Saved my ass from walkers and helped me gather supplies. I would never have made it out with all this stuff if she hadn't been come along."

"Listen," Alex said slowly, seeing how torn the leader seemed to be with the situation. He had a patch on his shirt that looked like something from a sheriff's office, and from what she could gather of his personality he seemed to be torn between survival and doing what he knew would be the right thing. "I understand your concern…But fuck sake, mate! It's an apocalypse here…this is the sort of situation where you need all hands on deck. I'm not dead weight and I _won't_ be, I promise. I'm a pretty decent shot with a rifle, and I'm good with hands on stuff. Please…I can't sleep in another tree."

A frustrated growl escaped him as he ran his hands over his face and clutched into his hair before Shane put his hands on the back of his hips and looked up at the sky. He sighed heavily, casting a glance around camp. Having another person to provide for would be a stretch…but another pair of eyes watching the camp would never go astray.

The officer gave another contemplative sigh and then looked at the girl in front of him.

Age-wise she would have been in her early twenties, with murky hazel-green eyes and a dark grey beanie, in with all of her hair was tucked into. Her simple tank top and jeans were covered in geek blood, powdered concrete dust and sweat that she'd acquired in Atlanta city after helping Glenn with gathering supplies. The run had not exactly been quiet, but Shane wasn't aware of that.

"Alright…" he conceded finally, "You pull your weight, you can stay."

Her eyes practically lit up and she shot a relieved grin at Glenn, he seemed glad as well and for a moment Shane suspected they'd probably already formed the beginning strings of a friendship. Easy to understand, he supposed, Glenn was a little more emotionally open and optimistic than the rest of them, so of course he'd sought to befriend the sorry straggler. He caught eyes with the new girl and pointed up at Dale on the RV.

"Dale will teach you watch duty, tell you what it involves. You keep to your word and we won't have any problem, these people are under my protection." She noted the underlying threat to his seemingly general words. _Hurt my people and I'll hurt you_. Alex could certainly respect wanting to keep his folk safe, and she held her arms up in a surrendering position.

"I don't want trouble, mate. Just a safer place to sleep than a tree or a roof."  
"…Good."

With that settled, he turned and walked away, moving to sit down beside a young boy with brown hair. If Glenn had not previously told her about Shane rescuing the wife and child of his best friend, he'd have assumed the boy was his son. It was certainly the body language that he was portraying.

Shaking off the thought, she turned to Glenn with a hopeful, relieved smile on her face, "You have no idea how glad I am they didn't tell me to fuck off. If I had to spent another night in a tree, I think I would have shot _myself_…"

"Well we don't need that," Came Dale's voice from the RV over the top of the sound of Glenn scoffing at her statement, "need all the eyes we can get. Now, go round the back and climb up here. Looks like I'll be showing you the ropes."

-0-0-0-

Alex took to the watch quite well, not that there was particularly much to _learn_.

It was basically 'watch for walkers' and if one turned up, one would sound the alarm or shoot it from the RV. But as Dale explained it to her, walkers apparently did not really wander too far from the city, so they had never really had a problem. She was thoroughly impressed though, that they did not let their guard down.

In this world, compliancy was dangerous.

"So, what's with the farming rifle?" Dale said conversationally, "Doesn't look like something you'd take backpacking America."  
She scoffed and looked at the gun, _Marshal's_ gun. "No, it's not. I was getting a lift with a farmer at the time, we hit one of the Hungr- uh…_walkers_ on the road and we crashed. He went through the windshield, wasn't wearing a seatbelt. Turned into one of those fucking beasties she I took the rifle and the machete and bolted for it."  
"You did what you needed to survive." The old man said with an agreeing nod as he put a hand on her shoulder, noticing the large knife on the end of it. "What about that? Home-made bayonet?"

Lifting the rifle up to examine the end where the knife was duct-taped to the end, he saw a sardonic, ironic little smile on her face. "I found out the hard way that the rifle jams, probably because it's old. Got rust on it, so it's not exactly the bees-knees of firearms. I strapped the knife to it as a backup, that way if it jams when I've got zombies around me…I'm not totally fucked in the arse."

Dale gave a laugh, and Alex found herself reminded of her old man back home. God she missed her folks…

"They're back." He said suddenly, pointing in the direction of the path into the woods. The young Australian turned her head to follow where he was showing.

"Who's back?"

"…Merle and Daryl…" he replied, a rather irritated tone in his voice.  
This made her look over at him with a confused expression, the level in his voice suggested that 'Merle and Daryl's' return was not a highly anticipated event. "Is that…bad?"

Alex turned her gaze back to the returning people aforementioned, watching a large guy with buzzed off hair and a very masculine jawline carrying a small deer on his back. The guy behind him was a little slighter in build, with scruffy hair and a crossbow slung over his shoulder. That guy had a string of squirrels across his chest, and she suddenly felt sick over the thought that they would be eating them.

He sighed heavily and sat in the deck chair to resume vigilance of his watch, "Well…it's good in the sense that they're the ones who go huntin' but…let's just say Merle doesn't play nice with everyone else." He gestured to the taller, bald guy with the swagger in his footsteps and a smarmy smile across his lips as he strode through camp.

To the old man's surprise, she laughed. She was shaking her head and rubbing the back of her neck. It was itchy with perspiration, so deciding that she was safe among these people and her hair wasn't going to attract walkers, she tugged off the beanie and tucked it into her back pocket. Alex ruffled her hand through the nape and enjoyed the cool dusk air against her skin, her scalp singing from the chance to breath.

"He sounds just like my oldest sister." She said finally.

"Doesn't play nice with others?"

She gave a snort, "Nah, mate. She's a fucking _bitch_. Love that cow though."

He watched her body language, also noticing that she didn't use the 'past tense' when referring to her family. "Your people are still alive?"

The girl shrugged, "As far as I know, I like to think they are. Last time I saw them was just before I boarded the plane with my brother. He flew back to Australia a month before all this bullshit started going on. Far as I'm concerned, they're sitting at home watching the news about all this crap…I try to tell myself this fucking arse-bitten _plague_ is confined to one continent…"

Before Dale could answer her, there was a wolf whistle from down below them, and they both looked down to see Merle, gaze turned up to the girl on the RV, his eyes shielding the final rays of sunlight to observe the lovely little creature standing in front of him.  
"Well now," came a strong southern drawl, "Ain't you a nice little find. Go out huntin, and you guys get a nice piece of ass for me."

Dale glanced at Alex, and understood what the sleazy redneck was getting at. She was standing atop the RV with a wide stance, feet planted firmly, her rather formidable looking homemade bayonet rifle in hand and a large machete slung on her belt. Her cherry red hair was straight and fell to only about her collarbone, and her entire stance indication zero intimidation, a person who said things as she saw them.

"G'day, mate." She replied to the hick, giving him a sloppy, two finger salute and amping up her 'Aussie' accent with a grin. She chose to ignore his lewd remarks altogether, because attitude like his she assumed it was a case of fanning the flames.  
The more attention he got for his misdemeanour, the more he messed around. Like a delinquent kid.

He paused for a second; obviously having not expected the accent that she'd given him, which to be honest didn't surprise her. Even back home her friends and family had repeatedly told her that she was a 'bogan' to the extreme; which was basically the Australian version of a hick or redneck.

'Roughneck' they called them back home.

"Merle, I assume?" she said, tossing her gun over her shoulder and resting a hand casually on her hip, clearly not at all phased by his vulgar implications.

"You assume correct, baby doll." He said smarmily, shooting her a rather sleazy grin and he folded his arms and looked up at her, "Where'd your fine ass come from, darlin'?"

Dale was quite surprised by the next response she gave him, because it was quite abruptly vulgar. "My parents fucked."

Astonishingly, Dale watched as Merle paused for a second, then tilted his head back and hollered with laughter. Pointing at the girl, he nodded his head once or twice and grinned widely, "You're funny sweetheart, maybe tonight you 'n I'll sneak off for a little 'getting' to know each other' hey?"

"Nah, thanks mate. I don't tumble with guys old enough to be my dad."

"What'chu talkin' about, I ain't no more than 30. I can 'andle you, babe."

Alex cocked her head and snorted at him, her laughter scoffing and light-hearted, "30?! Shit man, you've had a pretty hard life."  
Oh it felt so good to be _baiting_ someone.

Alex had missed this so much, being able to joke and use her ridiculously crude sense of humour with someone who could bait back just as well. Hick humour and bogan humour was quite similar in a lot of ways, and she found herself actually looking forward to the chance to poke shit at this new guy. Before Merle could respond though, his name was being called by the guy with the squirrels.

"Hey Merle! Get your ugly ass over here and skin that deer. Eatin' _good_ tonight!" he barked, sauntering over with a posture that was all limber movements and swagger. He had an awkward air of confidence about him, much like his brother…but more unpredictable.

"Alex," Dale said quietly, "could you go help with dinner, kinda don't wanna hear them over here in my ear."

She gave a laugh and scratched the back of her neck before putting the beanie back on her head, leaving her hair loose rather than tucking it up. "Sure, sorry…that was probably my fault for poking shit at him."

Dale looked down at Merle, who had easily dropped the banter with her to go and deal with his brother instead, "Ah they're…not _so_ bad. A little full on and extreme at times…bit racist every now and again, especially Merle."

"Chill, man. He's nothing I can't handle. Australia had bikie gangs, _they_ are dangerous. Merle's just seems like a redneck with an inferiority complex, throw him a squirrel and he'll be fine."  
The old man laughed and shook his head as he adjusted his seat in the deck chair. "You don't think _that_ sounds racist, about the squirrels?"

"Racist?! Fuck no! I'm Australian." She grinned, sliding forward onto her bottom and hitching herself off the RV to reach the ground. Dale wasn't quite sure what she meant by that remark, but he assumed that it was simply something to do with Australian humour, because _he_ certainly didn't get it.

Alex made her way over to where Merle was preparing the small deer he'd caught, the slimmer brother, Daryl, was already skinning squirrels. "Dale said you guys could use a hand?" she asked politely.

Daryl scoffed and shot her a look, "Yeah right. Old guy don't know shit, the hell'd you come from anyway?" he dropped his voice to a mutter as he gutted another squirrel, "...just 'nother god damn mouth the hunt for.

She put a foot on the log next to his kill and looked Daryl in the eyes, leaning on her knee with a wicked grin, "Jealous that I could do better than squirrels?" she joked.

She had expected him to react much like Merle probably would have, in jest and crude humour, but to her surprise he glared at her for a second before shaking his head and returning to his work, muttering "Stupid smartass bitch" under his breath. She was genuinely surprised, because she had assumed that the two brothers were similar in nature, or at least in their sense of humour.

Apparently not.

Merle gave a wheezy laugh at her cut-down as he pulled out a knife, brandishing it at her, "Think you could do better than squirrels? Bet y'all don't even know how to skin a deer."

She scoffed and snatched the knife off him with a sneer, "Pig's arse I can't!" she snapped, "I used to skin 'roos for dog-meat."

"Did ya now?" Merle smirked, watching her handle the hunting knife as he cast a glance at his brother, who seemed completely disinterested in this newcomer. "So tell me somethin' sweet'eart, never got your name."

Grabbing a hunk of the deer's hide, she poised the knife ready to skin it, trying to think of it as the same build of a kangaroo. She had to admit she kind of missed hunting on the property at home.

"I'm Alex Wrangle."

**I would like to point out to any of my non-Australian readers: A MAJORITY OF AUSSIES DO NOT HUNT ROOS OR TALK QUITE AS 'STEREOTYPICALLY' AS ALEX DOES.**

**I myself am an Aussie, and I assure you I have simply made Alex's Australian traits a little more on the full-on side for the purpose of this story. I want it to be the American version of the Redneck, versus the Australian version of a Redneck.**

**ALSO, yes this is a Daryl/OC, so the first interactions here (or lack of) might be odd, but I want them to have a very nonchalant and uninterested dynamic. He has no interest in her other than thinking she is another useless person he has to stick his neck out to hunt for.  
**

**Oh how little you know about Alex, Daryl….**

**;)**

Anyway, enough from me. Catchya! xx


	4. Chapter 4

**Oh so tired, but this scene is one of the ones that was stuck in my head.  
Hope y'all enjoy; it's nice to be able to write SOMETHING that isn't fighting me every step of the way…**

The first week had been the weirdest for Alex, that was for sure.

After so long of being alone and fending for herself, she'd found that readjusting to being around people was not as simple as she'd first thought. She'd been introduced to everyone at camp, which had been daunting in and of itself because there were so _many_ people for such a small camp; she was awed by the fact that this many survivors were here, considering that quite a few were small children. They would be defenceless against a walker, and yet here they were safe and alive.

She had to get used to sharing her space with others, particularly with people like Merle around who seemed quite intent on being a stereotypical sleaze. However she found herself not really bothered by his lewd suggestions or his sexual undertones towards her, because quite frankly although he was capable of being incredibly vulgar, he had yet to lay a hand on her at all.

It seemed that Merle was many things, a drug dealer, a redneck, a racist and a little bit sexist; but he was no rapist. She was willing to bet that he wouldn't ever actually s_trike_ a woman, because he seemed to have an intense dislike of Ed Peletier.

And _that_ she could understand.

Upon only one meeting in presence with the lazy, selfish pig of a man, she hated him. She saw the way he looked down on the women of their ground, saw the way his wife Carol would avert her eyes when he glowered at her, the way his daughter became fidgety and quiet under his stare. He was everything a man should never be, and he'd survived the apocalypse so far?!  
How he had, was anybody's guess.

She liked Carol though, when Ed was not around she was genuine and giving, always willing to try and make things better for other people. Another person that she got along with wonderfully was Glenn, which was understandable given that he was the first person that she'd had contact with in weeks. Alex found herself enjoying Dale's company as well, and he'd been surprised when she'd offered to help him one day with repairs on the RV; and she'd had to explain her previous employment as a mechanical engineer.

While she didn't work on _cars_ specifically, the mechanisms of a lot of engines and motors generally had similar principles to function. After tweaking what she did know with a little help from Dale, she was easily able to sort through the basics and make the Winnebago run a little easier.

She was much better at dealing with the component of the vehicle that generated their heating and electrical items, but she was willing to learn from him, and as such she'd developed a good sense of professionalism around him. She'd never say it to his face, but she was fond of him mostly because of the way he reminded her of her father.

Just older, and with much whiter hair.

The two girls he had a strong friendship with, Andrea and Amy, seemed like nice enough people. Amy was sweet, if not a little naïve, but Alex suspected that had something to do with Andrea. Andrea was tough, independent and seemed very protective over her little sister. The Australian spit-fire didn't really see anything w_rong_ with it, but she felt that perhaps sheltering Amy so much from what was out there, might not be a wise decision if the world came crashing in on them all.

The Morales family was one that Alex found to be lovely. Morales was funny, friendly and seemed quite okay with her wicked sense of humour, which scored major brownie points with her. His wife Miranda was fantastic at cooking with the very minimal materials they had available, and his kids were brilliantly behaved. Another person she liked was Jacqui, who was motherly and loving to almost everybody in the group, with the exception of the Dixon brothers and Ed; not that she was _rude_ to them, she just kept her distance. The woman seemed to have a close friendship with Jim, their mechanic, who Alex was neither here nor there about.

He seemed nice enough, but was generally pretty distant for the most part.

Shane had become less wary of Alex as she'd proved herself capable and useful to the group, and that she wasn't going to go mad and shoot everyone and steal their stuff. She always smirked when she thought that, picturing herself going on a rampage just to steal a few cookies. His charges, Lori and Carl, seemed decent enough, but she couldn't say that Lori was her kind of person.

Nice enough, as far as niceness went…but the woman was too highly strung for Alex's taste. She was a 'have a drink and make some stupid jokes while singing terribly off key about Australian pride' kind of girl. With Lori everything was always so _serious_ and dramatic, and Alex didn't do drama, not even in high school. The thought of how even in a zombie apocalypse women could still be catty, made her scoff to herself as a smirk crossed her face.

"The hell you smilin' about?" came Daryl's voice.

Her ears pricked at the remark, shouldering her old rifle and straining forward to look over the side of the RV to see Daryl standing there with his crossbow slung on his back and his usual shrewd, unimpressed expression.

"Nothing much, sour-worm." She smiled, saluting him with two fingers.

She heard him spit on the ground in front of him in annoyance which made her wrinkle her nose a little. Sure, she wasn't exactly what anybody would call classy, but she detested _spitting_. "Told you not to call me that, stupid bitch."

The fiery little foreigner leaned her weight onto her gun from her seat in the deck chair, her expression somewhere between annoyed and cheeky, "Then stop making it so easy. Smile sometime, then you wouldn't _look_ like you ate a sour-worm. Just saying."  
"Shuddup." He slurred, his serious expression intensified as he narrowed his gaze and slid his eyes away, shifting the crossbow to a more comfortable height.

In the last week or two that she'd been with the group, she'd come to realize that the most entertaining thing to do in camp, was _piss_ the crossbow wielding redneck off, because his reactions were petulant, almost childish in the sense that he would sulk or swear. His expression was constantly that of someone who had sucked a lemon or a sour-worm; hence the nickname. He was generally quiet, when he wasn't snarling at people who got in his way, the guy seemed to have a lot of anger, but Alex had decided that whatever the reason it was his business and she didn't really care.

All she knew was that he was fun to argue with.

It wasn't until a minute or so, that she realized that Daryl was still standing at the base of the Winnebago with that scowling expression; just _standing_ there like he was waiting. Confused, she picked up a small, chipped shard of stone from the roof of the vehicle and flicked it down on him, chortling with amusement as he snapped his head up to her with that irate, pissed off expression.  
"Did you need something, mate?" she asked casually, "Or do you just enjoy my conversation."

He scoffed at her, a very slight smirk in the corner of his mouth to show that the remark had something amusing about it, "Y'wish." He paused for a few seconds before shrugging non-chalantly and making a frustrated sound as he continued, "Merle's sick."

Alex's eyes widened, her fingers tightening around the handle of the rifle in worry, "Is he okay? Does he need some help?"

"No." he snapped, "He's _fine_, just got a flu; can't get his ass up to go on huntin' for tonight."

She looked at him with a suspicious and curious expression. She knew for a fact that Daryl would not be telling her this purely for conversation's sake, he wasn't _conversational_. The guy barely ever really said anything to anyone at camp unless it was something to report, and he and Merle usually kept to themselves.

"And you're telling me this why?" she said shortly, placing an elbow on her knee and resting her chin in her hand with a bored expression.

To her surprise, Daryl started to chuckle to himself with a sneering, vengeful grin. It wasn't a 'happy' chuckle to say exactly, it was more of an 'about to wreak some kind of trouble' type chuckle, and to be honest she found that to be worse than his cold shoulder routine. Suddenly he pulled the crossbow off his back with the speed and precision of someone who had done the motion a million times before, and who could probably do it in his sleep. Before she could even move, he pulled the trigger.

Pulled. The. _Trigger_.

An arrow whizzed past her cheek and imbedded into the pole of the umbrella on the roof, her eyes widening in shock at the wind that rushed her skin. Daryl lowered his crossbow and shot her a smirk as he watched her jaw-dropped expression.

"Y'all _said_ you could do better than catchin' squirrels. Let's see how well you hunt, 'roo wrangler." He said harshly, "Dale's takin' over watch, move it."

He turned and started to walk away, motioning to Dale by pointing at the RV over his shoulder with his thumb and didn't say a word, just slung the crossbow over his shoulder and headed towards the woods, not waiting up for her to follow.

As the shock of the sudden event began to subside, Alex gasped and turned to look at the arrow, as if only just comprehending what had happened. Suddenly the shock was replaced by a deep, welling feeling of anger, the sensation of being unbelievably _pissed off_ with someone. Narrowing her eyes and growling to herself, she seized the arrow and pulled it from the plastic pole and rounding in his direction. Shouldering her rifle, she grabbed the roof rack and swung herself on the ground before charging after him like an angry bull.

"You crazy, sour-wormed, redneck fucking _cunt-face_!" she thundered, "You just fucking shot at-"

"Hey!" he snapped, spinning around and pointing the crossbow at her with a stern, intense expression, "You stupid, kangaroo bitch? Y'keep s_creamin'_ like that and every walker in 20 miles'll come running up here. Fuckin' keep it down."

She had stopped in her tracks as he'd pointed the bow at her, and was left opening and closing her mouth like a fish as he turned around and kept walking. Clenching her fists, Alex felt irritation broiling in her chest; pissed off that he'd made it sound like she'd done something stupid, and annoyed that he was right.

Gritting her teeth so hard that they ached, she tightened her grip around the arrow until her knuckles went white before swinging her arm back full force and _ditching_ it. Alex's aim was true, and the arrow smacked him sideways in the back of the head with the metal bar in the middle.

Daryl Dixon froze in his tracks and clutched the back of his head, his hand gripping tightly into his dirty hair before he turned and shot a glare over his shoulder. With a stare like white-hot ice he watched as Alex walked up in his direction, her fists clenched firmly at her sides and her face set in an annoyed, stern line as she approached. As she tramped past him to the edge of the woods with leaves crunching beneath her boots, they shared a unified glare.

"Go get them squirrel." He muttered with a sardonic glare, a smirk in the very corner of his lips. The cherry-haired girl pulled the beanie from her back pocket and tucked all of the red strands underneath it, effectively hiding her hair. Alex then shot him a scowl over her shoulder with a low tone to her voice.

"Go fuck yourself." She snarled, pulling her machete from the holster and swinging it imposingly before slinking off into the woods ahead of him.

-0-0-0-

"You sure you done this before?" Daryl said in a rather bored tone, standing atop a boulder with a wide-legged stance and his crossbow held low. He was watching Alex fail miserably at trying to track their game through the woods.

As expected, she shot him a foul look, annoyance evident in her eyes. It made him scoff at her, as though she was being petulant.

"Still mad I got the drop on ya, huh?"

"The drop? Bullshit, you fucking _shot_ at me you moron." She muttered back, kneeling down on one leg to try and find the tracks of the deer they'd been following, but in her insistence to prove that she was just as good as him, Alex had forgotten that tracking a light-footed deer through a leafy forest was different than chasing a heavy-stepped kangaroo across a dry, sanded bushland. She'd lost the tracks, and she didn't want to confess it.

Her pride screamed at her not to concede.

"…You lost it, ain't you?" he remarked smugly, ignoring her remarks about him shooting at her.

Looking up at him with a glare, she prepared to fight him on it; but a realization crossed her mind. This wasn't about her pride, it was about food for the group…she couldn't afford to be ignoring her failure simply out of spite to one smug-ass-all-hell redneck. With a defeated exhale, she braced a hand on her raised knee and nodded before getting to her feet.

"I lost it." She confessed.

"Pssshhh," he tisked, jumping down off the rock and moving to her spot to where she'd been examining the tracks, "thought you said you'd done this before."

She felt ashamed of her miserable, crash-and-burn, fall-through-the-ground-into-a-puddle failure, despite having been so confident in her capabilities because of her practice back home. "I _have_…but jeez, mate. I've never tracked deer before. They're different."

"And what'd you track, huh? Them 'roos you always talkin' about. Didn't do us much good _here_ now, did ya?"

"I-…" she cut herself off before agreeing with his irritating, 'I-told-you-so' tone. She needed something to take the piss out of him, and seeing as he was an American she decided to use his cultural ignorance to have some fun. Oh vengeance was a bitch, but how she _loved_ it. "…You ever heard of Drop Bears?"

Daryl stopped and looked up at her with a raised brow before jerking his head in a particular direction, pointing out the way the deer must have gone. She fell into step behind him before he finally answered her question.

"The fuck's a Drop Bear?" he asked sceptically.

Unable to resist, Alex felt a grin carve through her cheeks as she held her rifle ready for any trouble. She licked her lips and prepared to feed him the biggest load of bullshit she could lay on.

"Well, you know what koalas are? They're those fluffy grey teddy-bear looking things from Australia; the ones that sit in trees eating leaves, kinda dopey looking?"

The crossbowman gave a shrug as he walked, "Sure, I guess. They sell toys of 'em in souvenir shops an' shit, right?"

"Yeah." Alex answered, putting a serious tone to her voice, "Well…don't let the cute and cuddly thing fool you. They're only like that when they're eating the leaves, the eucalyptus inside them is an alcohol agent, and they basically get drunk on them. Sometimes they fall out of the trees."  
Daryl stopped in his tracks and looked at her with a non-believing scowl, one eyebrow raised to show he was listening. "Drunk teddy bears…right. Fuckin' weird country you're from; no wonder you're a head-case."

"Back at you, redneck hick asshole." She snapped back, following as he began walking again, "_Anyway_, when these things stop eating, they go almost fucking rabid. They become really aggressive. If you're walking in the bush and they see you, mate they will fucking leap down on you and claw the fuck out of your face. They're violent and dangerous, and can do some serious damage."

"The fuck?" he balked, glancing at her as she fell into step beside him, his crossbow still raised and poised for the slightest movement, "For real?"

Alex nodded, her face solemn and serious; but inside she was hollering her head off at how gullible the redneck was. Koalas were not dangerous, and they were not called Drop Bears; even though it _was_ true about them getting drunk on eucalyptus and falling out of their trees, "Yep. I'm not used to tracking docile little deer, I'm used to Drop Bears that'll tear your face off, and kangaroos that'll kick your spleen into your lungs with their back feet."

The younger Dixon shook his head with a heavy sigh, "Your country's fucked."  
She shrugged, appearing nonchalant and at ease, "We have some of the most dangerous and deadly wildlife in the world…unless you count the walkers here, I guess."

"Yeah well-" suddenly the sound of a twig or leaf of some kind snapped and rustled, and the hunter had his weapon aimed in the second that it took Alex to blink. If there was nothing else about this man that she liked at all, she could at least admit that she felt incredibly safe with his crossbow on their side; he was no amateur with that thing.

He turned to her and pressed a finger to his lips, motioning for her to be silent before gesturing for her to raise the gun and circle to the right. He mirrored the action by circling left, and in the clearing between a couple of the trees, Daryl spotted the deer that they were looking for. Treading lightly, he moved with the grace of an incredibly skilled killer, almost assassin-like in his posture.

Catching eye contact with Alex, he reached his left hand down to the right side of his pants where his belt would be without lowering his crossbow, tapping two of his fingers on the spot before pointing at her.

_Machete_, he was saying.

Nodding, Alex narrowed her focused gaze and put the gun back across her chest and unsheathed the blade as quietly as she could manage. The deer had yet to pick up on them, grazing on a small patch of mossy grass, seemingly quite content. She lifted her head and watched Daryl as he weighed their options, finally deciding on a strategy.

He pointed at her, made the motion for 'machete' again, and then motioned a line from the deer to himself, lifting his crossbow to show her. She got the message, chase the deer and it would head directly in his line of fire, giving him a clear shot. Slowly, Alex raised the weapon and took a few steps into the clearing. The animal raised its head and watched her, she noticed the way its muscles twitched in tension, preparing to run.

Moving a little closer, she slowly stepped across the ground and brandished the machete at it; she didn't want to charge at it because there was a chance of it heading in the wrong direction. Just as she had hoped, it made a path back away from her towards Daryl, trotting away without being in a charge.

In a split second, there was the high-pitched sound which made the unmistakable point of an arrow being fired. It hit right on target, directly through the animal's skull and killing it instantaneously. The young woman found herself thoroughly relieved, he had ended the animal's life as quickly and humanely as possible, but whether this was from compassion of the desire to not lose his hunt she could not be sure.

The two of them approached it, admiring their spoils from the hunting trip. They'd been out there a good few hours, and they would need to get back to camp quickly in order to skin it and prepare it in time to make a meal of it. She gave a heavy sigh and squatted down beside it, pressing a hand to its neck to check for a beat that she knew wouldn't be there.

She started to feel a little homesick. Sure, this was no 'roo hunt…but it was a hunt nonetheless, and hunting trips like this one were about as close as she would get until she could make it home and see her family.

If she ever _did_ make it home…

"Looks like grub's gonna be good tonight, hey?" she said with a smile, "Gonna be a fucking pain carting this beast back, though."

Daryl shrugged and reached down to pull out his arrow with a sickening squelch. Alex ignored the sound, not really bothered all that much considering she had grown up skinning quite a fair amount of game with her father. The hunter got to his feet, cleaned the arrow off with a do-rag and placed it back where it belonged on the bow. He looked down at their kill and offered a puckered, somewhat reluctant smirk before he spoke.

"Didn't do too bad, Roo." He said absently, "Maybe next time you'll actually catch something."

Alex shot him a snark, half-hearted glare as a reluctant smile tugged the corner of her mouth, "I'm not a bad hunter, mate…Just gonna take some practice to get back into the groove. Once I do, I'll leave your 'hunting skills' in the dust."

He shook his head with an exhaling scoff and helped her to lift up the heavy weight of the fairly medium sized dear. She noticed what appeared to be (_heaven strike her down if she was imagining it_) a rather pleasantly jovial smirk, the mole on the left side of his mouth raised a little higher from the motion. His voice was mocking and challenging as he spoke next.

"Do better than squirrels my _ass_ you did."

**If you ever get told about Drop Bears, I assure you it's bullshit ;)  
Us Aussies just like to mess with you 'Mericans.**

**MWAHAHA.**


End file.
